The Way It Was

If you've ever wondered what life was like for those people growing up in the backwoods, I have an answer for you. It's in a book, of course...my newest one on the market (as of my birthday, November 1). The Way It Was: In the Backwoods. The book is on Amazon now, but will be available soon in Lenoir at Tybrisa Books and in Hudson at the Red Awning Gallery, in Spring Creek at Trust General Store, and...out of the trunk of my car.

We close the book with his family tree that extends beyond him into three more generations, as evidenced by the picture of his great granddaughter playing a guitar on the cover. That's his wife, Helen with him in the other photograph, and Max Patch in the background picture. For those of you not familiar with Max Patch, it's the top of the world, as far as I am concerned, way, way, waaaaay in the backwoods of western North Carolina. 

This is the second book Jasper Reese and I have written together. Our first was an award winner with the North Carolina Society of Historians for its historical significance about past life in Spring Creek, North Carolina. Back in the time: Medicine, Education and Life in the Isolation of Western North Carolina's Spring Creek.

This one is a bit different. While the first followed not only a family's history, but also a school's history (Spring Creek School), this book is filled to overflowing with exciting family stories that Jasper grew up listening to on the front porch or around the cookstove or at reunions over plates of covered dishes. It is also graced with lyrics from several songs Jasper wrote about living in the backwoods of Madison County. We used the song titles as chapter titles, for example, chapter one, "High Hills of Caroline," and  chapter five, "Hill Billy Boy." Wait until you read the "That Old French Broad" chapter at the end. Okay, hint, there's a river in western North Carolina and Tennessee by the name of French Broad. 

Here's a portrait of Jasper by his granddaughter, Kendra Reese. He's doing what he loves. Making music.

 

And here's a picture of the two of us. 

When Jasper wrote the concluding poem in the book, he wanted to share his true passion for the place of his birth. 

Madison Magnificence 

by Jasper Reese

October 7, 2020 

Neither Van Gough nor Mike Angelo

Could have properly painted it.

Leonardo Da Vinci could not have sculpted its essence.

Only those who lived, loved and labored there,

In the midst of its depth,

Could project in the memories of their minds,

Its true magnificence!

And only the Powers that Be could create its beauty!

We all should be so lucky to love our home like this.

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

Time Travel or Research

Since I started this writing journey, I've been fascinated with time travel because of my need to fill in the missing parts of my research. I'm not a science fiction reader, for sure, much less a sci-fi writer, but when I sit before a screen filled with news articles or journal entries from the distant past, I know I am in a time warp zone. It's the closest I will ever come to time travel, and it will have to do until someone comes up with an actual time machine. Sign me up. I'd love to talk to those who penned what I read and ask them for more details.

Like this past Saturday, when I time traveled to the beginnings of our nation through the journal of Methodist Bishop Francis Asbury. I am thankful for the various groups that went ahead of me and transcribed his writings from pen to type and then posted online. My research was on an obscure fact, but I needed an element of proof to back up a statement in my current project, so I dove into the journals of this devout Christian, like I was looking for a needle in a haystack. 

This circuit rider spent years and years riding throughout America, first in the colonies and then the early states, writing his thoughts and opinions almost daily. He did have opinions, I must say. 

He looks so peaceful and serene in this picture, but his life was far from it. He suffered greatly from years in the saddle and from diseases that we have long since conquered. He was distressed those times he returned on his circuit after a year away and found rampant sins among his people, yet he journeyed on. He encouraged the local ministers under his charge. He preached to the masses in courtyards and to the individuals under a tree.

One of his circuits brought him near where I now live. His trials are evident as shown in his 1786 journal entry:

Not only did I find that nugget, I found where he mentioned the church of my childhood, Love's, where he preached in 1799. The sentence about his visit was printed on the front of the bulletin at the church the many years I attended there, so I knew it existed. I just never uncovered it in the actual journals.

If only those he met had listened to him. He was totally against slavery, and this was in the very beginnings of our nation. He preached to blacks and to whites, usually in the same congregation, and saw no differences in the children of God. I found most interesting his comment on the death of George Washington. He was in Charleston, South Carolina when he heard the news a month afterward:

Imagine the streets of Charleston that day with muffled bells tolling in the background. Only through time travel journal reading am I able to comprehend the reaction to the death of a great leader. In this excerpt from his journal he talked about the manumission of slaves, which I had to look up. It's the release of slaves into freedom. 

His was a front seat to history, and he didn't realize it. He talked about the French Revolution. He talked about the Moravian village in Salem and the Baptist missionaries throughout the mountains. 

I did find what I was looking for, despite my being distracted in so many ways. I am writing a second book with Jasper Reese about Madison County in western North Carolina. One section explains the early town of Hot Springs and the settlers there. I needed to make sure the Bishop was there also, and bang, Southern Methodist University produced a map of his stops in North Carolina. Here are the western counties and there, near the words Hot Springs, are two locations named for men in my book, Hoodenpile and Barnard.

The Bishop mentioned the dangerous road in the area. He even talked about a buggy wreck from cliffs high above the French Broad River and about his own wreck that same day. 

I'm back in real time now, mission accomplished. But I'm looking forward to the next time travel journey I might have in the days to come. It will be a joy.

Catch of the day,

Gretchen

Hibriten Mountain

There is a mountain looming over our town, Hibriten Mountain, so named by a homesick Brit from Brighton, England. This one must be a bit higher, I must say...with a twinge of a British accent.

I've driven by it so often I hardly notice it anymore. It's not a threatening mountain, more like an ever-present friend who stands silently by your side. In the past, I've watched hang gliders soaring from its crest. No more. Only hawks soar now. The mountain is dotted instead with cell towers and 9-1-1 towers and one solitary fire tower. It is a most utilitarian friend, indeed.   

Yesterday, I decided to conquer that mountain. Several months ago I chose the date to hike it, my birthday, November first. I have had several friends climb to the top, surely I could, too, if I knew where to go. I asked around and found one of the best kept secrets in town, the parking lot to climbing the mountain.

It wasn't the worst hike I've been on lately, but it was strenuous, an uphill climb the entire way, full of switchbacks and loose gravel spread for upkeep of the access road to those towers. When I puffed my way to the foot of the fire tower, I felt like Rocky Balboa on top of the Philly steps.

My Rocky Balboa Moment

Two and a half miles from the parking lot and spread out before me was the most fantastic view of the town I now call home, Lenoir, North Carolina.

The platform for hang glider launches was still there, but I avoided it. I didn't want to accidentally soar like the eagles. Instead my husband and I were satisfied to view the valley below from a more secure position near the towers.

Hibriten Mountain is such a part of the landscape that I don't notice it except twice a year, Advent and Lent. During the weeks leading up to Christmas, a gigantic star shines from the side of the mountain, sort of like the iconic Hollywood sign in Los Angeles. Unseen during the day, the star is illuminated after dark during Advent thanks to support from the local Loyal Order of the Moose. In the spring, a cross lights up the sky during the days leading up to Easter. 

For the first time ever, I stood at the base of the star/cross. I studied its shape. I imagined the vision those involved with creating the monument had back in 1954. When the star is lit a few short weeks from now, I will look upon it with new eyes. 

A star and a cross

We ate our snacks and rested before heading the two and a half mile trek back down the mountain. Descending on leaf coated loose gravel was not a simple task, but I made it, with no sore muscles or broken bones. This morning someone on Facebook posted a quote from Max Lucado that summed up my trip. "God never said the journey would be easy, but he did say the arrival would be worthwhile." 

I can relate.

Catch of the day,

Gretchen